


following the vedymin's blood

by TheOnlyHuman



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types, Wiedźmin | The Witcher Series - Andrzej Sapkowski
Genre: Aiden Lives (The Witcher), Blood, Blood and Violence, Canon Typical Violence, Cat School, Dragonfly is Queen of Gemmeria, Eye Trauma, Gen, Hurt, Injury, Karadin is an asshole, Protective Family, The Dyn Marv Caravan (The Witcher) - Freeform, Trans Aiden (The Witcher), mentioned Kiyan, mentioned Lambert, slight AU, where the Cat Caravan are not taken over by Nilfgaard but instead live on and find our bestest boi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-12
Updated: 2020-09-12
Packaged: 2021-03-06 18:01:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,897
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26423068
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheOnlyHuman/pseuds/TheOnlyHuman
Summary: Karadin left Aiden for dead along a path few people travel along. He expected to hear of innocent passers by stumbling upon him within the month. Therefore, he took great care in leaving the Kitten half-alive - to bleed out whilst awaiting a saviour that would never come; destined to die before anyone stumbled upon him.The people that do come across him, find him in a worse state than anyone expected.That is, they find him alive. They also aren't exactly the innocent passers by Karadin had expected.
Relationships: Aiden & Dragonfly (The Witcher), Aiden/Lambert (The Witcher), The Dyn Marv Caravan (The Witcher)
Comments: 5
Kudos: 81





	following the vedymin's blood

It had been a simple day: wake up beside Lambert in an inn, wave the growling Wolf off as he prepared to go North for winter, go to the palace to accept that _very_ promising contract and lounge around to get a feel for how to break a godsdamned curse on a month-old babe.

Getting cornered on the forest path on his way back to the inn was not on his to-do or have-done list. Aiden should've known, honestly. He should've seen it coming.

Life was never easy on him.

He came to this realisation, something that triggered no end to his self-berating thoughts, no sooner than the first man stepped out onto the stone.

Of course, Aiden recognised him. Knew him very well from what profiling he'd done of a successful crew of assassins a fellow Cat had pieced together. Information he'd gathered just in case.

_~~Paranoia usually paid off.~~ _

Muscles, wide shoulders, brown hair chafed short and blue beady eyes. The man, standing a full head taller than Aiden, weilded a wooden club that was jagged and bristled with iron nails pushed through it.

Hammond sneered at him as a lithe man stalked up behind the Cat, the wisp of his longer hair and stubblier build suggesting he was Lund.

If Aiden hadn't been on high alert, he certainly was now. Around him was the scent of elf, the tinge of booze thick. Clear signs of Vienne perched in a tree somewhere. Before he could take an inquisitive sniff and pin-point the archer's location, Karadin appeared on his left and a thin black haired woman, Seyse, strolled out of the undergrowth. She held a crossbow in her hands.

"Brother," he chirped gleefully, unwilling to let this situation put a dampener on his wit. "Haven't seen you in decades. How are you? I can see your side-venture is going _very_ well."

Karadin snorted as if amused. Although, when talking to Aiden he'd always seemed amused. "I am well, Aiden. My side-venture _is_ doing particularly well, wouldn't you say?"

He flinched in time to dodge the crossbow bolt headed for his thigh. Now with his mid-length swords drawn, he whirled around to deflect Seyse's next bolt. When she stopped firing he glared at her.

She winked back.

In hindsight, Aiden should have ran then. Should've fled and tried to catch up with his Wolf or laid low because one did not want assassins on their tail. But Aiden, ever impulsive and compulsive in matching lots, had made the foolish decision to stay.

"Yes, yes," he'd snickered, feeling the first trills of the cat formula's potent rage sneaking up on him. Its grip was cool on his throat, curdling around to spear through his ribs.

He was sure the latter was the dagger Lund possessed instead of a physical manifestation of rage. The fact the scrawny man clutched a bejewled dagger and that dagger was lodged in between Aiden's fifth and sixth ribs was suddenly very concerning.

"You missed the heart, Lund," tsked Karadin. Instantly, Aiden knew if he didn't do something _yesterday_ he was dead _now._

Snarling, the Cat lunged, curling around the other man and tripping him forward with his foot. The dagger was ripped from his body, the bloodied blade used to slit Lund's throat. Seyse was next, Aiden rushing her even as Hammond roared a warcry.

His blades were a spindle of light. The only sound he heard was the flutter of air displacement. The black haired woman lost her arm even as her leg came up in a brutal kick that Aiden only just managed to jump. Dancing around the blundering fool that was Hammond equipped with his glammed up stick, the Cat's ears picked up a ruffle behind him and twisted in time to block a decapitating swing from Karadin's blades.

The arrow that caught his left eye sort of stopped him from doing anything more. Suddenly, the assassins were gone, Aiden left to stand and let his knees fall out from under him. He felt himself hit the ground, stone digging at him past leather. Nothing was louder than the ringing in his ears. His body refused to move as his entire head _burned_ , eyesocket almost entirely numb past the cold throb of a steel arrowhead.

He choked out a breath and found Karadin standing over him, smug as the day he was born. The coward eased Aiden's swords out of limp fingers as his neck rocked with the _snap_ of his medallion's chain breaking. The enchanted metal was tossed up once, caught in sturdy gloved hands as the emblem shimmered in the dying sun's light.

"As much as I'd love to snap your neck here and now," Karadin crooned, bent down to murmur in his thumping ears. His breath ghosted a trail down Aiden's neck as his heart drummed a war song in his chest. Fitfully, he wished the fingers twitching uselessly by his sides would do something as he begged his throat to open up just a little more so he could breathe. "I do enjoy hearing about how my prey was found, so I think I'll leave you with a parting gift."

And then he was dangling, a large hand curled around his throat as Hammond held him up whilst the others laughed - Seyse's sounding more choked. The sounds rang booming in his ears. Aiden wanted to scream.

He hadn't told Lambert he loved him. The Cat had sent his Wolf away, once again downtrodden at the dismissal of staying at the Wolf's Keep. Aiden knew it was suicide to go there but now he found himself wishing he'd accepted Lamb's offer.

Karadin's blade pierced his stomach, running along his navel deep enough to gut, just below where his chestplate stopped. The man's yellow eyes bored holes into Aiden's soul. This time, he did scream.

"Enjoy drowning in the mud, Kitten," the bastard purred. At a sharp laugh, Hammond swung and threw him into the foilage by the forest side path. His body jerked, everything burning as the ivy wrapped around him.

Aiden slumped in the dirt, intestines pooling out around him, tried to angle his head so the arrow wouldn't push in further — but if he wanted a quick end all he had to do was rear up and shove the arrow further into his eyesocket. Shoving it into his brain would be easy. He should have the strength to do that.

Except, he didn't want to die. He had Lambert and his other friends, other Cats; precious little Dragonfly who'd sooner gut someone than kiss them despite her looks, Guxart who growled like a wolf but always looked out for the kittens, Kiyan who'd been his paternal figure until that bastard mage in Novigrad had fucked him over.

Whatever. He'd killed the mage, hugged Dragonfly, had spent most winters travelling with the Caravan and thus Guxart. A shame it was that he'd never see his pretty Wolf again, a pity he'd never see that lopsided grin nor hear the man's marvellous laughter, wouldn't ever see how those amber eyes lit up at the sight of him.

_Death,_ he wondered. _Do I want to die?_

He didn't. His subconscious apparently wasn't on the same level as he was on staying alive, though, and he fell into darkness all too quick.

Sometimes Guxart wondered why he listened to the brats on matter of advice. Assured, he was the same age as most of those _brats_ but the difference between them was that Dragonfly barely acted half her age (and she was most certainly _not_ thirty).

"C'mon," pestered the woman once again. "We're buying apples at the next fair or so help me."

"You'll fuck up your pie again and waste them," Axel chattered, goadingly riding his chestnut gelding a pace ahead of the Gemmerian Queen's soot mare.

"Oho," the woman snickered, narrowed gaze landing on the man. "What's that meant to mean?"

"I'm saying we should buy extra."

Cedric nodded briskly. "I agree. I'd enjoy eating some this time."

"Oh, you little fucks!" Dragonfly roared and launched off her poor mare. To the horse's credit, she didn't even startle as her rider lunged from her saddle onto Cedric's to strangle him. Brehen intercepted her after urging his stallion to a gallop and the two of them tussled and shoved atop the man's bay.

Guxart wished they'd left the woman in Gemmeria. There was a reason why they'd helped her cull her Uncle and keeping control of a Kingdom (or was it Queendom now? Hmm.) usually meant the ruler stayed in its general vicinity for at least a few months.

Dragonfly hadn't been near her sieged lands in over a month. The Caravan had, thankfully, only needed to put up with with her for two of those weeks. (Not that they didn't love her — bless, 'Fly was just a bit much to deal with and Guxart was damn tired.)

That got him thinking: was it sieged if they'd slit the old King's throat and had taken over through bloodline inheritance? A coup, maybe, to some extent, but not a siege. Damn, siege sounded fancy though.

Joël - much to Guxart's relief - had taken the reins of Dragonfly's mare and was leading the girl along with the caravan. He flashed the boy an appreciative nod and got a sharp-toothed grin shot right back.

"Dragon," he cawed over the grunts of her and Brehen. The two looked ready to fall out of the saddle, limbs askew in every direction. The stallion, Marsiver, did not look happy. " cut your bashing before the horse bucks you both."

The woman pouted as if she wasn't long past five summers old and flung herself agily back to her girl. Joël released her reins as Dragonfly ruffled his hair in thanks. Brehen snickered tauntingly. Guxart spoke before the fool could reignite the tussle and end up sans a mount.

"Brehen, shut your trap unless you want Mars-i-bitch to join the cart tuggers."

The man, currently with them for an extended time due to a rather pressing contract for his head after he'd gotten a bit too carried away, made an indignant noise. "My boy won't be joining Schrödinger's lot unless he goes lame, old man."

"Best keep an eye on him then, aye?" Lexandre waggled his brows under his hood, currently stuck leading a supply cart whilst his broken ankle healed.

"Keep your fucking beast-lovin' claws away from him!" Hollered Brehen, leaning forward enough that the saddle looked ready to tip. Guxart simply watched as Cedric, to the other's left, reached out in preparation for an emergency grab.

"I'll do no such thing," cackled Lexandre, obviously enjoying the conversation far too much.

Brehen rocked towards him, hand reaching for his dagger as he readied to lunge. Before he could, however, Marsiver reared on his hind legs and the Cat fell off the saddle with a clatter.

The Caravan came to an unplanned halt as everyone laughed, Guxart even getting in on it as Dragonfly leered down at the man sprawled over the stone path.

"Fuck!" Hissed the Cat, reeling from the stone as if burned. He made a futile swipe at his tongue - which he'd probably stroked the ground with - and made a gagging noise that quickly turned into hacking coughs.

Cedric unmounted to slap at his back, peering down at the man as Brehen clamped a fingerless gloved hand over his mouth. When he'd finished everyone was staring down at him with varying shades of concern.

"What'd you lick down there?" Dragonfly chirped, deciding to get in on the moment as she too unmounted. She lowered herself to Brehen's sitting level by dropping into a slav squat. The way her head tilted would've been amusing did Guxart not know that as a tell for when she smelt something rather troublesome.

Dragonfly had the best nose of them all, a trait Vipers usually had. This sole fact meant that when the woman sniffed something and she tilted her head to the side, like a stone lolling off a cliff, the others knew there was reason to worry. Unless she'd smelled apples, then all bets were off.

"Blood," she said, quiet but loud enough for them all to hear. "Recent. Got that rosé tinge to it."

"Human?" Axel queried.

"A witcher's." Joël joined her on the ground as the remaining Cats cast their senses out for signs of any monsters that would jump a witcher. If the blood was old it was most likely the monster was dealt with, or they'd be finding a dead witcher, but Dragonfly said it was recent. And she _would_ know.

Guxart lifted his head, scenting the breeze. There was a musk to it that suggested the late night dew would soon be coming and the _slightest_ tinge of copper. If the girl hadn't said anything he wasn't sure if he'd have noticed.

Although, the labouring pulse he heard clearly.

From the way the others' head moved in the direction, he knew he wasn't alone in what he was hearing.

"I almost recognise it," muttered Dragonfly, looking to the leftern trees like everyone else. The woods were too thick for them to see, even if it was dark and Cats had excellent night sight (there was something ironic in that they didn't need the potion named after themselves). She took another, longer, sniff and bolted tenser than a leshen on the hunt. "Melitele's tits _fuck."_

Then she was gone, darting through the thick trees and spindling grass. Guxart nearly choked as he dismounted, calling for the others to be vigilant. "Brehen, Cedric, with me."

"Aye," came his chorus. The Cats that were staying back took the moment to offer grass to the horses whilst Guxart and his boys delved into the trees in a belated search for the witcher who'd bled enough that the wind carried it. Mainly the girl, though - they were only going after her.

_Sure you are,_ whispered a snide voice.

Dragonfly hadn't went far, only about a meter deep whilst having sprinted half a yard up the path. When they caught up with her, weapons drawn, they found her cradling a man.

"Aiden, stay with me," she begged, tapping at the pale man's cheek. There was a snapped off arrow embedded within his left eye, the head still in, and aside from an array of superficial scratches, his intestines were also being held inside his body by a limp arm.

Guxart swore and dropped to his knees beside the normally tanned man. His pulse was weak and thready, only showing in his neck. "He's in shock," he grunted. One look at the amount of blood seeped into the once green grass told him all he needed. "Lift his head up, Dragon, we need to get a Swallow in him."

The woman did as she was told, gently lifting the boy's head to an angle where they could pour the potion down his throat without him gagging it back up. Brehen was silent as he passed over a vial of the stuff, Cedric making a soft noise low in his throat - likely at the sight of the arrow.

Guxart didn't need a second glance to know Aiden probably wouldn't see out of his left again. That was, if he even woke up again.

But Cats looked out for each other and if they had to nurse the boy on his deathbed then so be it. Guxart owed him for a lot more. He deserved a few moments peace before they burned his corpse.

He evaluated the chances of the boy making the night even as the Swallow rushed down his throat. Aiden made no motion to indicate he felt the searing burning hiss of the potion working. The blood around his eye gushed as the wound tried to close.

Feeling sick, he shared a look with Dragonfly. She placed her hands firmly at Aiden's shoulders as Guxart reached forward and slowly, _carefully_ pulled the arrow out, thanking whoever was listening that it wasn't barbed. More blood and an excess of what was possibly his eyeball flooded out of the cavern. Up close, someone might even mistake the man's eye for a bath of wine there was so much blood. Dragonfly gently eased his head to the left and the brown grass flushed red anew.

Aiden looked as if he was crying tears of blood.

Cedric spoke up, voice quivering. "How long do you think he's been here for?"

"Blood's a few days old at best," Dragon murmured, rubbing patterns through Aiden's hair as she pressed chaste kisses to his clammy forehead. "It's a miracle he's alive."

"Brehen, go back and tell the others to set up camp. Get out every potion we have." Guxart ordered. The man didn't bother to argue, thank Melitele, just nodded and vanished.

"It's all right, Ai," Dragon whispered to the air. "We'll get you back on your feet."

Guxart silently agreed, vowing to do his best possible to help the man as his eye started sealing over. When he rocked to his feet, he felt uneasy. Cedric's hand wavered in hesitance, trying to offer support but unsure if it would set him off.

"Let's make a stretcher," he decided, grimacing at Cedric. The other man nodded, briefly separating to find sticks large enough. They left Dragonfly to murmur to Aiden, the stench of blood thick.

**Author's Note:**

> He lives.


End file.
